


across the gap of a thousand years.

by orphan_account



Category: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9602285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: kevin's father always told him to look for the clues: the small things that would lead him to the bigger picture. he didn't realise just how much that would mess with his son's sense of trust, of course.betty's mother told her a lot of things: to be prim and proper and poised and perfect. she would never see how repressed and terrified that made her daughter, even when it was screamingly obvious.veronica's father told her, before he lost it all, that love was waiting for her: he never saw how often she remembered those words, nor how many of her dreams they would torture.





	1. one.

the first clue he got was within weeks of veronica’s arrival at riverdale.

kevin keller was the king of chaos. not of riverdale, no - not while cheryl still called herself queen. besides, who would really want to rule over a school of idiotic, hormone-driven, utterly _clueless_ teenagers? cher horowitz had never been his style. no, controlling chaos was so much more fun - not to mention so much _less_ likely to land him with a black eye. there was just something so trustworthy about the only out gay guy, it seemed. all it took was a whisper in the right ear, a nudge in the right direction, and the gossip-mongering hordes at riverdale high were all under his thumb.

(he didn’t pretend he wasn’t dramatic.)

so when jason blossom went missing (read: died mysteriously in sweetwater river), and the daughter of new york city’s latest big-shot fraud rocked into town in the same summer, kevin thought he’d hit a goldmine of intrigue and obsession. looking back, he almost wished he’d been wrong. almost. even if it had thrown the lives of everyone he cared for (read: betty) into disarray, who could really blame him for loving it if it was thanks to said events that he would end up with hickeys on his neck from a varsity football player?

it wasn’t that he was _bitter_ about constantly being one step behind cheryl in the murder-mystery despite being the sheriff’s _son_ that led him to urge the gang into breaking into school after hours, of course; it wasn’t a desire to unearth whatever skeletons newly-buff archie had buried over the summer. it was just an inkling that there would be clues among those lockers. it was _definitely_ his repressed need to do the good thing, the right thing - not a desire to confront and interrogate veronica lodge about why the _hell_ she was messing with sweet little betty’s head.

 

see, when betty had tugged her cap down her forehead, shrugged, and told him that “you know, kev, archie wasn’t the only one veronica kissed,” he’d thought she’d slipped him a good dosage of something freakin’ potent. like, magic mushrooms potent. _that_ would have been more believable than his best friend hiding something like that from him for so long.

 

“she _what?_ ”

“she kissed me.” betty told the ground, “at our cheerleading tryout. i thought you knew?”

 _that_ was a lie. he let it slide. “what, did she really think that flaming bitch would forget all about her season five betty draper roll for the sake of some botched attempt at lesbian shock factor? god, i thought new york was supposed to be _progressive_. that appeal died twenty years ago.”

“that’s what cheryl said.”

kevin had glared at her for a full five minutes after that reply. what betty failed to recognise was that if someone else gained any gossip before kevin did, it resulted in two evils. first: he couldn’t control it. and second: he couldn’t control it. while that was mere innocence on betty's part, veronica surely knew better - better than to try such a move in the first place, and better than to be so secretive about it. it didn’t make sense, unless... see, he’d had his suspicions about veronica. she’d waltzed into their lives and enchanted betty within minutes - and to be fair, had looked just as enchanted by betty as the blonde seemed by her. he almost pitied her: straight crushes were the worst. but then, when he threw the archie dilemma into the mix, it made even _less_ sense.

 

so kevin keller turned his flashlight towards betty with a plan that night.

“alright. ken and barbie,” the beam of light wavered between archie and betty’s faces, “you two are taking the showers and changing rooms, now that dear old arch has joined the meatheads.”

“and who put _you_ in charge?” god, he was starting to hate veronica lodge.

“who would you rather have calling the shots, new girl? archie wouldn’t make a decision if his life depended on it - no offense. and if betty’s in charge and we get caught, alice will have my head.” he retorted, nudging her just a little too hard and shooting betty a look of faux-encouragement. thankfully, she seemed to get it then, and urged the pair away. “ _thank you._ now, you and i are going to go get our hands on whatever files there still are about poor, sweet jason.”

“ _ahem_.” damn. he’d forgotten the great wrench in his plan: archie’s rekindled relationship with jughead jones. the third. “so, d’you want me to go join betty and archie, or-”

“ _no_.” well, maybe veronica was good for something, after all.

“what she means, juggie,” he interjected, “is that i have a very particular plan for you. _you’re_ going to go to lost property and find yourself an outfit that _isn’t_ entirely from hot topic.” was kevin nothing but a walking stereotype? yeah. did he care? not one bit. “and if you get done with that before we come get you, go to the library and make out with a book of bukowski or something.” with that, he seized veronica by the elbow and wheeled her towards the admin block.

 

he waited until they were digging through cabinets in an unmarked office until he said anything - best not to let veronica know he’d set the entire thing up, or she’d be off retelling the entire conversation to betty before the morning. anything he could do to remain in control, of course. kevin may have been the king of chaos, but he was not about to let his life - or betty’s - fall any further into anarchy.

“veronica,”

the sound of files ruffling around quietened. “yeah?”

“this... well, i might sound a bit presumptuous. and weird. it’s probably just me reading into things.”

the ruffling stopped, a metal drawer clanged shut. “why do i feel like there’s a one way mirror somewhere around here?”

kevin laughed at that, allowing the sound to turn cold. “is there a reason i would be interrogating you?”

“i-”

“that was a joke, veronica.” only it wasn’t.

 

he opened another filing cabinet, tilted his head over it so he could watch her. “no, i was just wondering if you were like, _into_ girls, is all.”

“oh.” she let out a laugh not unlike the burbling of a waterfall. the smirk on her face grated at his nerves. “yeah, kevin. i am. takes one to know one, huh?”

he smiled, teeth bared like knives, and sauntered towards her. “so, like,” his expression dropped, anger at her mere appearance in his town taking over his mind. how dare she walk all over their lives like that? new york was, clearly, vastly overrated; it bred assholes, stuck up little rich kids who wouldn’t know a real relationship if one slapped them in the face. “this whole _archie_ thing, everything you’re saying to betty, all of it… this is just a game to you? you’re just here to play around, mess with all of us - with her?”

“you’re an idiot, kevin-”

“no, i’m genuine. I’m watching out for people i’ve known my whole life, who don’t see the world like you or i do. you’ve got poor archie wrapped around your little finger now, and betty - god, she’s half in love with you! you’re this shiny new thing, you’re the best female friend she’s ever had, and she’s what - your little project? you’re going to play her around till you’re bored of her, then stab her in the back?”

veronica was seething then, stepping towards him with a vengeance that might have scared kevin were he not so blindly mad. “no - what the _fuck_ are you-”

“then why did you kiss her, only to steal the love of her life away from her?”

“oh, my god.”

“and now for the ridiculous excuse-”

“pull your head out of your ass - you’re not an idiot, kevin. betty’s - she’s the closest thing i’ve ever had to a friend! to any kind of relationship, other than my mom. and i get it, you’re trying to protect her. but you know what? that’s not what she needs. she’s not some fragile little thing, so stop treating her like that. a shield can’t protect her forever.” by now, they’d forgotten the unspoken keep your voice down rule; if there had been any guards in the school, the pair would have been in cuffs. veronica shoved past him, towards the door. “and you know what else? this isn’t the nineties. bisexuality _exists_ , you vacuous, self-indulgent ass. and it’s fucking great. so _drop_ your misogynistic fear of the female sexuality. it’s pathetic. and here,” she tossed a manila file at him. “it’s jason’s. i’m going home - have fun explaining _that_ to betty.” but when she threw open the door, kevin found he wouldn’t need to.

 

because outside stood betty in all her blonde glory.

 

her lips rolled together as she glared daggers at him; behind her stood archie, staring pointedly at the ceiling while his cheeks burned brighter than his hair. veronica, to her credit, didn’t even pause in her storm-like exit from the building, even when betty’s hand grasped feebly at the cape around her shoulders.

“i’ll just-”

“no, you won’t.” betty muttered numbly. “archie and i are going home. see you at school, kevin.”

  
so for the first time since he’d met the girl, kevin keller fell into a fitful sleep that night with betty cooper refusing to speak to him; his only companion a sheaf of bland, dead pages about an even blander, deader, boy.


	2. two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> betty balked, skin paling, palms sweating. she opened her mouth to reply, to scoff, to anything, but nothing came out. instead, she stood there, open-shirt flapping over her bikini in the breeze. and all she could think to do to escape the girl’s gaze and her own panic was to turn the hose onto veronica.
> 
> so she did.

betty cooper was screaming inside.

(she spent at least 80% of her life screaming inside, but that wasn’t the point.)

you wouldn’t have guessed it, from the laughter on her face to the carefree open buttons on her shirt. the hose in her hand spritzed water mist back towards her bared torso and face, soothing cool against the sweat that lined her skin. she couldn’t remember summer in riverdale ever being this hot before. maybe that was all the internal-screaming, though. given that the reason for all that screaming was seated just in the corner of her vision, clad in some dreamlike wisp of a sundress and looking all the more ethereal for it? _yeah_ , betty decided. _it was probably all the screaming._

“y’know, veronica,” she ventured, stream of water directed at a row of tomato plants. the dark-haired girl lowered her book and raised her head, eyes obscured by the shadow of her hat. she said nothing. “if you were doing something _other_ than lounging about and reading the same book over and over, you might be able to remember what day of the week it is.”

“oh, but i _am_ doing something.”

“yeah? and what would that be?”

 

betty felt the smirk that crossed veronica’s face in the tips of her fingers. within seconds of the words melting from her tongue, she regretted her challenge. (enter stage right: aforementioned screaming.) she tilted her hat upwards and her head sideways, still smirking so coolly at betty. it would make her mad, if it didn’t already make her so many other things. “watching you, of course.”

betty balked, skin paling, palms sweating. she opened her mouth to reply, to scoff, to _anything_ , but nothing came out. instead, she stood there, open-shirt flapping over her bikini in the breeze. and all she could think to do to escape the girl’s gaze and her own panic was to turn the hose onto veronica.

so she did.

 

they were in the garden of jughead’s family friends’ cousin’s wife’s sister, a garden which betty was being paid a ridiculous sum of money to water, and she could do nothing but squirt water at her best friend. because she was an idiot, and because it seemed like an easy out. veronica’s shriek did nothing to cure betty’s panic - not until it dissolved into laughter. “betty!” she squeaked, breathy and gasping. “what the hell?”

it was then that betty realised the water was still spraying towards her. she turned back towards a rosebush, eyes wide. “i-”

“god, you really _do_ hate this book, don’t you?” it was something about that which set the girls off, laughter consuming their bodies and setting them shaking, falling towards the muddy earth in peals of giggles, everything else forgotten.

“i’m,” betty wheezed, wiping tears away from her eyes. “i’m so... _sorry?_ ” she crawled into a sitting position, back against the house, lost for words or thought.

veronica pushed herself to her knees, maybe a metre away. betty stared at the smudge of dirt that ran down her cheekbone, streamlining towards her lips. there was something stuck in her throat; she wondered whether she could even breathe past it. “oh, so you’re not _sure_ that you’re sorry, huh?”

mute, betty shook her head.

 

it was then that she realised that she’d dropped the hose. she tore her gaze away from the movement of veronica’s lips around her words; sure enough, it was clutched in her lacquered grip. well, _shit_. betty was so screwed - in all ways but the one that mattered. the screaming intensified as veronica clambered forwards. every short breath she took echoed the ache in betty’s stomach from too much laughter, but the humidity in the air grew thicker as the girl’s weight settled just above betty’s knees.

something in the girl’s dark eyes told betty that even if she’d been able to put up a fight, it wouldn’t have lasted long. veronica shuffled closer.

 

one hand snuck down towards betty’s waist.

(to balance herself, the blonde was convinced.)

 

her fingers splayed over betty’s hip, and the screaming in her mind was washed away. it was perfectly silent, filled only with a clean, clear nothingness that she hadn’t known in years. “still not sorry?” veronica’s words washed over her with the scent of cinnamon-sugar, with the intensity of a forest fire.

 

a year had passed since the murder of jason blossom. veronica’s accidental coming-out to their entire group was a mere blip in betty’s memory. only as of three weeks ago, that was a lie. she couldn’t _stop_ fucking _thinking_ about it. it was always there, a tiny knot in her gut that was growing and growing and growing. and all she could do was _wonder_.

 

all she saw was the red of veronica’s lipstick. “ronnie, i-” her blonde head was barely half an inch away from the wall when there was a rushing sound, and her mouth filled with water.

 

* * *

  

it was two weeks after that day that kevin would get his second clue.

(kevin’s _clues_ were starting to feel less and less like clues and more like blatant warning signs the more often that veronica’s head fell into betty’s lap when they all met at archie’s for movie nights.)

 

the helmet was starting to chafe around her neck by the time betty had even planned how she was going to ask. the ugly whirr of the pitching machine rolled to a crescendo; she felt her muscles fizz in anticipation.

(softball would be the thing that got her into her dream college. not her impeccable grades, not her perfect essays. softball. kevin knew this - had known this as long as he’d known her. so he didn’t complain any time she asked him to traipse down to the cages with her, even if it was a half hour drive in his car.)

the sound of the pitch was a faint pop in betty’s ears, but the ball rushed like water as it whipped towards her. for the first time all day, betty hit a foul.

 

kevin jumped into action before the girl could even process that it was a wasted swing. “bett-”

“turn the pitcher off?” she asked, voice soft as ever. the tip of her bat dropped to the ground, scratching circles into the dirt. “i, uh, i need to ask you something.” she pulled her helmet off and fixed him with what she hoped was a smile, but undoubtedly got twisted on the way.

“yes, your highness,” kevin winked, his voice empty of any sort of malice as he jogged towards the machine. “so,” he ventured upon his return, pushing a sweaty strand of hair back from betty’s forehead, “what is it you want to ask?”

 

betty bent over, unzipping her bag and retrieving her mitt. “oh, _god_.” she muttered before she could stop herself, wincing as the sound of her own voice reached her ears. she avoided her friend’s eyes and shrugged. “well, i just remembered that i. um. i never actually asked how you knew you were gay-”

“ _oh, my god-_ ”

betty barrelled onwards. “and i just thought, like, it might be something worth hearing. or whatever.”

“betty, this isn’t happening that smoothly-”

“right, yeah, i thought so. fuck.” she jammed her catching hand into her mitt and strode away, skin burning hot as a radiator. “ _fuck_.” she repeated, feeling herself begin to tremble.

 

“betty.” kevin stared at her back. “betty!” she ignored him, lining herself up at a pitcher’s plate. they’d never said it aloud, but the reason they both loved the batting cages so much? no one else ever went there. he reached her side as she lined up again, her third and final ball in hand. betty didn’t even spare him a glance, the lump in her throat returning, thicker and more jagged than ever. she shook even as she threw the ball. “it’s not that simple.” he murmured.

“please, kev. i need…” she looked up at him and her eyes began to sting. she hadn’t cried in public for months, now. “i’m not like you. i don’t know anything, i don’t… i’ve never done anything any different than exactly how i’m supposed to. i’m not _confident_ , i don’t know what i want, i - i don’t even know who i _am_ anymore-”

“what, did you think i just woke up one day with glitter leaking out of my ass and lady gaga’s entire discography branded into my mind?” kevin’s smile betrayed his sarcasm. betty stared, mouth hanging half open, the shaking incontrollable now. she sunk downwards, until her knees were pulled tight against her chest. kevin was already reaching towards her bag when she grabbed him by the arm and shook her head.

“not anymore.” she muttered. her eyes closed for a long moment, nausea swooping in and out of her stomach. “ _god_ , when did my life get so messed up?” kevin’s chuckle was wet, and she felt his thumbs swiping away the tears on her cheeks as her blood rushed through her ears.

“it’s hard. but when you know, betty… you just know. there’s nothing that’ll change that.”

“i’m scared, kevin.” her voice was no more than a whisper, but it cracked on the words all the same. she leaned towards him. his arm swept her into a tiny cocoon world, and for once, she felt completely, entirely safe.

 

“it’s veronica, isn’t it?”

betty’s stomach bottomed out, and with each passing second she stayed quiet, she felt ever more condemned. “it’s like,” what _was_ it like? betty didn’t know if she could describe it, she just knew that it _was_. “the world’s moving so fast, and it’s making so much noise, and i feel so tiny all the time. like everything’s happening to me and i can’t do anything. i’m trapped. but then when she’s around, it all stops. the noise, the world. and it feels like i matter. i feel like i could change the world, and like i know who i am and what i want. i don’t know who that person is, but with ronnie… i think i might know her, one day.”

kevin whistled, long and low. “shit, betty.”

“shit,” she agreed.

 

“want to go scream at trains, then?”

she laughed. “nah. i think i’d rather hear myself, today.” and when she rose to her feet, raised her arms to the flickering lights to the ceiling, and yelled at the top of her lungs, elizabeth cooper finally felt just a few grams lighter, and a whole lot less terrified of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh i really didn't think this chapter would get written so fast?? but you're welcome, lads; don't be expecting the third tomorrow, because you Will be disappointed. hmu @ riverdle on tumblr if u wanna chat, leave a comment, whateva. x0x0 - v


	3. three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> veronica’s gaze flicked upwards. she scraped her spoon across her bowl, the junk piling up. “easy for you to say,” she pointed the spoon towards cheryl, “you already landed dreamgirl.” it was the wrong thing to say - cheryl’s smirk only grew, her body leaning impossibly further into josie’s side. it was almost as sickly sweet as the fudge sauce veronica had shovelled into her mouth to punctuate her sentence, and it hurt a lot more than the toothache.

veronica lodge resented the idea of soulmates.

not because she didn’t believe in them, no, nor was it because she hated people who believed in them. in fact, veronica had been waiting to meet her soulmate since she was eight. well, she _was_ waiting. until two years ago, when she waltzed into pop tate’s, blissfully unaware of who awaited her inside. see, it took only months for veronica lodge to forget her childhood love for true love and grow to despise the existence of soulmates.

the reason? her soulmate was a straight girl.

it fucking sucked.

was she in love with betty? no. not really, not in the way that you’re supposed to be in love with someone. because betty could never, _would_ never love her back. not like that. and veronica was at least smart enough not to agonise herself by pretending she could. so she was stuck in some sort of halfway-love, where betty would always be more important than anyone else, but never hers, and never knowing.

 

she’d made fun of the term _lovesick_ , once. she never would again.

 

her spoon drooped down into the mess of ice-cream, syrup, and whipped cream in front of her.  for once, veronica lodge allowed herself to look as despondent as she felt in that moment; eyeliner smudged, hair messy, the now-icy sweat from cheer practice still gluing her shirt to her skin. veronica was without care, without class, without composure. she was exhausted - emotionally, yeah, but physically, too. her sundae taunted her, begging her to eat, but she was too sore even for that. instead she just stared glumly at the strawberry-cream and chocolate-sugar in her bowl and tried not to sigh.

it didn’t work.

“alright, time to slap some sense into _five hundred days of summer_ over there,”

veronica glared at the redhead, mouth open and worse than ready to send an acidic jab about her _sloppy seconds-_

“ _veronica_ ,” josie warned, sensing the danger before she could let it out. she shot her a sympathetic sort of smile. her arm retracted from around cheryl’s leather-clad shoulder ( _josie’s_ jacket tucked neatly around her, veronica noted with a flash of vague envy).  “i know this sucks for you. you know that i know that, more than anyone.”

 

the memory of skin-on-skin still made her smile. she and josie had never been serious, never been more than an outlet for their _other_ frustrations. it had always been something of a joke unspoken between them: the way they would spend the night at yet another 18th birthday staring longingly at betty and cheryl, only to wind up wine-drunk and giggling, fumbling through the motions in the back seat of josie’s car. see, veronica wasn’t usually such a sadsack. sure, betty could never and would never know how she felt, and sure, veronica had to stand by and just watch her have her heart broken over and over by those idiot boys who would never understand how perfect betty was-

 

the point was, ronnie had had her fair share of flings. boys, girls, it didn’t matter; no. what _mattered_ was that it was never serious. things got messy when you broke someone’s heart, even if it wasn’t really your fault. josie’s hand curled over her forearm. “veronica,” her voice was softer, now, “i love you, you know that. but don’t you think it’s time to… let go?”

veronica’s gaze flicked upwards. she scraped her spoon across her bowl, the junk piling up. “easy for you to say,” she pointed the spoon towards cheryl, “you already landed _dreamgirl_ .” it was the wrong thing to say - cheryl’s smirk only grew, her body leaning impossibly further into josie’s side. it was almost as sickly sweet as the fudge sauce veronica had shovelled into her mouth to punctuate her sentence, and it hurt a lot more than the toothache. it was a jagged, white hot twist in her heart and gut at the same time, because she knew josie was right. she was never going to have betty, not the way she wanted. and somehow she’d allowed herself to pretend that one day she could. but the truth? never in this world, never in this life would she ever get what she wanted. what she was meant to have. “she’s going to california, anyways.” the raven-haired girl glowered at her dessert. “and i’m going back to new york. i can’t even have her _there_.” maybe she would never stop paying for her father’s sins, for her past. and the future just kept looming closer, the final knife in its ugly hands. “she’s gonna have people better than me. ones maybe she can love like that. don’t worry, josie. i know my place.”

 

* * *

 

the scrape of metal on metal once would have driven her up the walls, left her head ringing in pain for hours on end. now it was just background noise to the burning light, the ever-expanding cacophony of sound that was betty cooper. (yeah, veronica was a bit hopeless.) she stared in silence at the scruffy, faded, ripping knees of the blonde girl’s jeans where they stuck out from under archie’s truck.

“new york.” the words were muffled by the thousands of pounds of metal and machinery between them - a weight veronica was _glad_ for. she didn’t know how she could have looked betty in the eye without crying right now.

“yeah.”

“you’re going home.” the discontent, the judgement, the _pain_ in betty’s voice was a hot knife right to the gut.

“no.”

“no?”

“i’m from new york, but it isn’t my home.” the background noise pauses, and veronica immediately regrets her words.

“then where is, ronnie?” she can still remember the first time betty picked up her mother’s nickname: tangled together on the floor of the penthouse, popcorn kernels still skittering away from where their bowl had fallen.

 

 _ronnie_ , she’d coughed, the word vibrating with laughter, _you did_ **_not_ **. she couldn’t remember what it was, but she was sure she hadn’t really done it. betty never smiled so much, not when they first met. her laughter was rarer still, diamonds buried deep under layers of family drama and jason and self doubt. veronica would have sworn on her own life that she’d told the pope to go fuck himself if it meant dragging a laugh from her pink-tinted lips.

 

veronica’s silence seemed answer enough for betty, whose scoff was audible even from under the car. “if it isn’t home, why go back?” the words ate at veronica. she couldn’t answer, not without sounding pathetic. _because i might be able to go back to before you_. “those people… they won’t forget who you are. who your dad is, what he did. that place won’t be good to you. they’ll be talking about you taking over the family tradition.”

“i have thick skin, b.”

“do you want that for your mom? for her to have to watch that happen?”

veronica bristled at that, shoulders rising. her voice sharpened. “don’t _lecture_ me, betty.”

“i-” the metal clanking picked up again. “i don’t want you to get hurt.”

well, that was _ironic_. “i’m not studying business.” the words clipped out of her. “i’m studying law. i’m going to stop people like my dad doing what he did. betty, they can keep saying whatever the hell they want to say. it doesn’t matter.”

there was a grunt from under the car, and a lot more banging metal than veronica really thought was necessary. veronica turned away from the car and towards the nearest benchtop. her hands gripped either side, knuckles pale as the moon as she clung to it. her breath shook as she let it free; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a conversation so _charged_.

“los angeles.” hermione’s voice echoed around her mind as she broke the silence. _mija_ , she could even feel her mother’s hands running through her hair, _that is a girl born to break hearts without ever knowing it. she belongs in a world like that, a never-ending summer. she needs that city like it needs girls like her._ she’d asked her mom just what the **hell** that was supposed to mean the moment she’d said it, but the elder lodge had only smiled, kissed her forehead, and whispered that she’d understand. veronica was starting to think she did.

“mhm.” was she still mad about new york? it hardly seemed fair, that betty should still be allowed to sound so tense about it. “mechanical engineering, just like they - i mean _i_ \- always planned.” something betty was fixing squealed angrily. veronica flinched. silence took over again. it was unnatural, for them. veronica was starting to feel ill.

 

“do you,” betty’s voice suddenly sounded like she didn’t want to be heard. “do you ever think maybe it’s all not worth it?”

“what?”

“college. like, you’re spending all this money and you’re dedicating your future to this one thing, and you’re gonna wake up one day and just think, _fuck_. i fucked it all up.”

veronica swallowed, turning back towards the car. there was a flash of movement, a rolling sound. betty’s legs swung uncontrollably as she shot back into her workspace. _minha querida_ , veronica remembered the scratch of her father’s stubble against her forehead, _one day you will have a love so great it is like the blazing of a great star, bigger even than the sun. that is how i knew that i would marry your mother. it almost hurt to look at her, she burned so brightly._

 

veronica was so scared of looking into the sun in that garage that she screwed her eyes shut. it was past midnight. “i have to do what i’m doing. i can’t imagine a future where i don’t. it’s what i want. what i need, even.”

“oh.” veronica opened her eyes, and thought the room looked too bright. neither girl moved. neither made a sound. something was burning inside veronica’s throat. “i don’t think i’m doing what i want.”

veronica faltered forwards, hesitating a few steps away from betty’s shoes.

“oh, god.” that was the worst part: it was quieter than the beating of veronica’s heart.

“what do you want, betty?”

 

silence.

 

“do you remember our cheerleading try-outs?”

veronica’s cheeks burned. “yeah.” what a _pathetic_ excuse that had been to check whether she would ever have a chance.

“did you mean it?” neither of them had to clarify what _it_ was.

veronica bent over and grabbed the cuff of betty’s jeans, tugged until the old skateboard betty used as a creeper rolled meekly out from under the truck. the blonde squeaked as she sunk down, all but straddling betty’s waist. some part of her was very much aware that her valentino pants were pressed into a puddle of motor oil. the rest of her didn’t care; the rest of her just wanted an _honest_ answer.

 

she lowered her voice, wishing it weren’t so thick with the sight of betty like an angel in one of archie’s old henleys, grease on the sleeve and the chest and her face, all through her hair; her face burning, sweaty, _beautiful_. “what do you want?”

 

“i don’t know.” betty’s eyes fluttered, darted, lied. that was the worst part: the knife tore from veronica’s gut, over her ribs, twisted into her heart. her head dropped, lips rolled together. she didn’t hear the spanner clatter to the ground, but suddenly the earth shifted under her and betty’s hands were oil-slicking on her jaw and then, out of nowhere, her lips were on veronica’s and the planets were aligning and for the first time in _years_ , veronica lodge felt lucky-

“that.” it was over too soon, jaw cold and lips even colder still. “oh, fuck. now i’ve gone and screwed this, too, shit-” veronica’s fingers pressed to her lips, her mind a million miles away. “um, i’m gonna. go shower? yeah. I’ll find archie. tell him to come check his car.” veronica didn’t know how she was standing again. she closed her eyes and waited to wake up. she opened them, and found she wasn’t asleep.

“b, wait-”

“i’m sorry, i should never have…” betty pushed past her, towards the door.

 

veronica spun, caught the blonde girl’s wrist, and shook her head. betty’s head was halfway to tilting by the time she was being tugged backwards, nudged until her back was flush against the truck. the thud echoed for a moment as veronica inched closer.

“i said wait,” she whispered, grabbing the collar of archie’s old shirt and tugging betty downwards. “this is what you want?”

“yes,” the word washed over veronica’s lips, and she could barely even kiss the girl for the grin that was beginning to form on her features: she was vaguely aware of betty’s arms around her hips, the citrus-flower scent of betty’s perfume (more like home than anything else in riverdale) overwhelming this close to her. there was a warmth in her gut, over her ribs, dancing along every inch of veronica’s skin but burning on her lips where they met betty’s. it was too much, eventually, and she pulled back, grinning, laughing, light.

“what?” betty murmured when she pressed her forehead into the girl’s collarbone.

“i’m just waiting for someone to wake me up.”

betty’s finger’s toyed with the hem of her shirt. “i think i’m having an out of body experience.”

 

* * *

 

see, kevin keller’s third and final clue about his two best friends’ painfully obvious relationship was never a clue at all: it was a smack in the face of relief when he caught the pair playing tonsil hockey outside pop tate’s, graduation caps half falling off, veronica’s gown already a crumpled mess on the ground.

“really?” he’d scoffed, throwing a fry at the pair in despair. “you two finally get it in and neither one of you thinks to tell the middleman? you disgust me.” betty had turned bright pink; veronica simply wrinkled her nose at him, shrugging back into the blue silk sleeves. “now, get your horrendously gay asses back inside before alice has an aneurysm. and you,” he pointed another fry at betty, “don’t think you’re getting lucky tonight.” veronica swooped past him, turning only to send an eye-roll and wink at her girlfriend. “i expect to hear _everything_.”

  
“jesus _christ_ , kevin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY Y'ALL sorry this took so long life has been CRAZY and i've been trying to manage getting ready to move out of home + get this fic done before i moved out of home and well. i ended up just binge-writing this in a few hours so i hope it met your expectations and didn't let anyone down!!!!
> 
> pls let me know what you thought/think/hated/loved/WHATEVER ok cool beans love u all good night


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